


Time Travel

by Giglet



Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-17
Updated: 2010-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-12 19:29:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giglet/pseuds/Giglet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do you change when the world around you changes? Peter, Elizabeth, and Neal fall backwards through time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Travel

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://china-shop.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**china_shop**](http://china-shop.dreamwidth.org/).
> 
>  **This universe is open**  
>  By which I mean: I am not currently planning to write any more of this AU. But people seem to want more. Feel free, anyone, to take this and create with it! I ask only   
> 1)please comment here to let me know where you post so I can link to it, and   
> 2)please point back to this story. (And if you post on AOOO, we can turn this into a multi-author series.)

  
Everything was different now.

 _Now_ was different now.

 **Elizabeth was the one who reacted fastest  
** Elizabeth was the one who reacted fastest, possibly because the most immediate reactions were to her appearance. Specifically, to the length of her skirt, which while entirely appropriate in her office, had suddenly become much much too short when they'd stepped out onto this street full of pedestrians and horse-drawn carts and women in floor-length dresses with, dear god, were those bustles? She tried to back up, ran into Neal, who fell backwards back through the doorway -- and suddenly it wasn't the doorway into her office at all.

 **Peter was the one who had the hardest time believing it  
** Peter was the one who had the hardest time believing it. While Elizabeth and Neal were reacting (Neal by whipping off his jacket and wrapping it around Elizabeth's waist like a slightly-awkward Devore apron, Elizabeth by backing away from the street, backing behind Peter and looking around for clues), Peter was perfectly still, moving his eyes but nothing else as he looked around them, trying to make sense of where they were, trying to re-order his view of reality. "Hallucination?" he suggested.

"If so," Neal replied, "we're all sharing it."

And predictably, this sent Peter's mind spinning in a new direction: what had they all eaten together? Nothing. Drunk? Nothing. Was the hallucinogen in the air? A contact poison? He pulled out his cellphone and dialled 911. He didn't bother looking at the display, because he clearly couldn't trust his eyes. He said (or at least he hoped he said, "Three of us were doped with something, substance and vector unknown, we need an ambulance at" and he rattled off the address, "one white female, two white males, one of them will be the prettiest guy on the block, names and descriptions - " and then he realized that his phone didn't even appear to be on. He put it in his pocket, giving up on talking into it, but hoping that in the real world, help was on its way even as he was lost in his own delusion.

"A hallucination," Elizabeth said, "wouldn't include the smell." The air was a funky mixture of smoke and something else that was indescribable but entirely unlike the diesel fumes of their Manhattan. Not worse, maybe, but very different.

 **Neal was the first one to steal something.  
** "You can't stay in the doorway here," said a brusque clerk from behind them. "Make way for paying customers," he said, and then, with a glance at Elizabeth. "Decent customers," he added.

Elizabeth fixed the Glare of Doom on the man, and Peter looked like he was coming to a boil, but Neal stepped forward between them, one hand on Peter's chest, holding him back, the other brushing the clerk's coat, as though concerned about his welfare. "Of course," he said, pouring on the charm. If he'd had a gold-capped tooth, it would have glinted, Peter thought. "Of course we understand, my friend is just concerned about his wife, after that unfortunate incident with her dress."

Peter backed off slightly, and Neal turned both hands to the clerk. "If you could just direct us to the nearest dress shop..." and Neal stopped, implying that they would leave immediately, if only the clerk told them where to go.

After a quick glance at Peter, who loomed, grim-faced in the doorway, the clerk decided he'd much rather deal with Neal, who was closer to his height and more pleasant. "The nearest is Rosander's, next block down." He pointed. "But it's pricey."

Neal grinned again, having successfully pocketed the man's wallet. "Oh, cost is no object."

 **Elizabeth was the first one to pull a con  
** They escorted Elizabeth onto the street, and were nearly run over by an omnibus. "Watch it!" the driver called, "you're in the big city now, Paddy."

"You watch it," Peter answered, "I'm a Federal law enforcement agent." He pulled his badge, and the driver was silenced as he continued carefully past.

"You know," Elizabeth said quietly as they continued down the block, "I'm not sure that's true, now. There is no FBI yet."

There were horse-droppings in the street, pecked at by chickens, which was probably the source of some of the smell. And someone had clearly used the nearer alley as a urinal. If she remembered her history correctly, there were probably also pigs around. They made it to Rosander's, which wasn't a dress shop as much as a dress-maker's shop. At the door, Neal left them. "I'll be back in 15 minutes."

"What are you-"

"Money's no object," Neal said, quietly, "and ours is no good, here and now."

Elizabeth nodded immediately, and turned back towards the shop.

Peter's mouth tightened, but he nodded. Neal sighed happily, and wandered out into the crowd for a quick spot of pickpocketing, with Peter's reluctant approval.

When Peter caught up with Elizabeth, she was charming the shopgirls with the tale of her "unfortunate incident," which had now gained the embellishments of their trip to the city and a bit of high society acting bohemian at a fancy dress party the night before, an unfortunate theft and damage to her costume. She had a talent for lying that Peter had seldom seen deployed so enthusiastically. By the time she was done, Ms. Rosander and her assistants were not only delighted by the story, but felt that equipping Elizabeth would shed some reflected glory and refinement on them.

"So," Peter said, "can you help my wife with her wardrobe malfunction?"

One of the assistants actually snorted.

"Of course, Mr. Burke," Ms. Rosander said. Someplace in the story, Elizabeth had specified that they were the Sussex Burkes, not the Galway ones. Rosander told him, "we can fit her with a skirt for today while we're preparing her new dresses."

"Dresses --"

"Of course I need some new dresses," Elizabeth said, as though it was perfectly obvious, as though she'd been thinking about this for weeks rather than minutes. "Nothing in my closet at home is at all fashionable by current standards."

And that, at least, was entirely true.

"And," Ms. Rosander jumped in, "surely when you made your budget for this trip you intended to take advantage of the city's tailors yourself."

Peter looked at his durable, if slightly anachronistic, suit then at Elizabeth, who said, "Oh, I insist."

"I can recommend Mr. Levinson and Sons. They're just two doors down. Very reasonable prices."

Peter's mind, having accepted that he had to react to the (clearly impossible) situation rather than simply rejecting it, was struggling with other logistics: where to stay, what to do, how to get help (if that was even possible), and who would take care of Satchmo if they were stuck here. "I'll defer to your judgment," he told Elizabeth, which seemed to be the right answer because everyone was suddenly beaming at him.

He'd spotted something sticking to his heel that he could recognize all too easily. "And I'm afraid we'll need to get new shoes as well."

"Wait until Neal gets back and defer to his judgment," Elizabeth said. Peter raised his eyebrows. "At least as far as clothing," she said. And with that, Elizabeth graciously allowed the dressmakers to escort her into the back room for measurements.

Neal was gone longer than he'd said, but when Neal returned, he was wearing a coat and hat that looked a lot like the other coats and hats that men were wearing. Only, predictably, they looked a lot better on Neal.

"I've checked us into a suite at the Waldorf," Neal said. "Our luggage will follow." Without hesitating, he reached out and took off Peter's tie. Peter stood still while Neal tucked the tie into Neal's pocket and replaced it with a cravat. After tying it just so, Neal stood back and looked at him.

"Better," Neal said.

Peter admitted, if only to himself, that it was better. If they had to be here, it was better to have Neal nearby, better that they were all together where he could keep them safe, better that he could trust Neal and Elizabeth to be competent and quick-witted and looking out for each other. And him.

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, I would be honored if anyone wants to continue playing with this AU. I would especially appreciate anyone who can correct my (very shaky) history of New York in the late-1800s.


End file.
